The Boy From The Peaky Blinders
by SereneCalamity
Summary: It had been nearly five years since Clary had seen Jace. She hated that she still loved him. Historic Mob AU. Clace. Oneshot.


_I absolutely looooove_ Peaky Blinders. _It's so amazing. So I decided to do a bit of an AU._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and barely the plot._

It had been four years and eight months since Clarissa Morgenstern had last seen Jace Heronale.

It had been nearly three weeks since he had returned to Alicante, England.

She had managed to avoid him, and she was glad for that, because her temper was just as quick and as furious as it had been when she was nineteen and he had first left. She really wasn't sure what her reaction would be when she saw him, and so it was better off that she carried on as she was now, avoiding him for as long as possible.

It was early 1918 and the war had been over for five months now. Of the men who had left their city, under half had returned. The ones who had come home were nothing like the men that they been when they had left, and part of Clary wanted to seek out Jace, to make sure he was okay. Obviously, he _wasn't_ , she couldn't imagine the things that he had seen and been through over there, but the part of her that had been in love with the eldest Herondale boy wanted to comfort him.

She made sure to tamper that down _hard_.

The Herondales were the family who ruled Alicante through fear. The Peaky Blinders criminal gang had been around for years—longer than Clary had been alive. It had been run the Herondales almost as long as it had been around, and by their family members. Clary's parents—especially her father—had been high up in the syndicate, and when they had been killed in a fire that was lit intentionally, they had taken Clary and her older brother in. Jonathan Morgenstern had been killed a few years later, when Clary had been fourteen, murdered by a rival gang.

Clary had had a crush on Jace for as long as she could remembered, and when she turned sixteen—and he was eighteen—it became something more. Not much, not at first. Jace had wanted to protect her from absolutely everything, and that included himself. The whole Herondale family and all of their allies were protective of her, treating her like a daughter of Stephen and Celine Herondale. The world that they lived in was dangerous, filled with death and blood, and Jace as the eldest son of the Herondales, had more lives on his hands than he could count.

But Clary knew that, and accepted that.

So when she turned seventeen, he took her virginity in the barn behind their townhouse. It was beautiful, in the middle of the night, with only a couple of lanterns and candles lighting their way. A lot of girls Clary's age were already married, or forced to work—either in jobs that paid pitifully to take home to their parents—or they were turned out on the street. Luckily for Clary, she was part of a family that supported the females as much as the males, and Celine had assured her that she wouldn't be wedded until she was ready.

And there was only one man that she had her eyes on.

They were a thing, she was the princess of the Peaky Blinders, and she could be just as scary as him with a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other, even in her skirts and corset. That was until the war began, and Jace had to leave, just as most other men in their city. Clary understood that he had to go, but that didn't stop her from crying whenever she was in bed. Never in public, she knew she had to be stronger than that, but when they were in the privacy of their shared bedroom, she sobbed. She felt as though her heart was breaking in two, and even though Jace wasn't one for showing any emotion, she could see it in his eyes and in the way he held her when they were making love that he was hurting inside, just as much as she was.

For a year, the letters had come sporadically, until she received one that said it was over. Said that she needed to move on. Said that so many men weren't coming back, he might be one of them.

She had replied so many times, waited over a whole other year, but there was no reply.

So she had moved on.

She still worked for the Peaky Blinders—she loved the family too much to cut ties—but Celine understood that she needed some distance. She did some of the books for them, helping their other book keepers. She was paid more than the other book keepers, but that was because of her position in their family. Because of who she was to Jace.

Stephen had died in the war, and she mourned for him just as she had mourned her own parents and brother.

No one had heard from Jace in a long time, it was only eight months before the war ended that Celine had received a letter from him, and she even though she was the strongest woman in the city, she had broken down in tears, knowing that her son was still alive. Clary had held her, and even though she had spent the past few years to try and harden her heart to him, a few tears had slipped down her face as well.

And now he was back.

"Will!" Clary called out as she pushed open the door to The Garrison, the pub that the Peaky Blinders owned. It was run by Will Herondale, one of Jace's cousins. It wasn't open for a few more hours, and she needed to pick up the earnings from the night before. It wasn't usually her that would stop by to pick up the money, they had runners and people lower own who could do hat for them, but she was in town anyway, so she had told Celine that she would stop by.

She hadn't even thought that Jace might be there until she saw him sitting at the bar.

She had done so well with avoiding him in the past few weeks, and because the pub wasn't open, she didn't even think that anyone would be there other than Will.

And yet here he was.

"Mornin', Ms Clary," Will said from behind the bar, where he was standing opposite Jace. Clary's breath was caught in her throat, and she wasn't sure if she should turn on her heel and hightail it out of there, or if she should just carry on as though he wasn't even there. Clary swallowed hard and tried to ignore him, her eyes on Will, even though her neck was itching to turn to look at Jace.

"Just here to pick up yesterdays takings, Will," Clary said stiffly.

"I'll just grab it from the back," Will said, glancing between Jace and Clary, obviously feeling a bit nervous about leaving the two of them alone. He was about to turn and head to the back office when Jace slid off the bar stool that he had been sitting on, throwing back the rest of the amber liquid in the crystal glass that he was holding.

"It's fine, Will," Jace said, his voice even rougher than it had been before he had left, but that accent still there, tinging his words, making Clary's stomach flip flop. "I'll get it for... _Ms Clary_ here." The emphasis on her name changed the butterflies that had been swarming to anger, and she finally looked at him again, her eyes narrow.

"I'm sure Will's got it," Clary told him, her tone cold.

"Will's cleaning up the pub, getting it ready to open," Jace said with a shrug, his voice easy, even though it was a complete lie. The pub didn't open for hours. But even though his demeanor was casual, Will and Clary both knew better, given the sharp look in Jace's eyes. Will looked torn, between doing what Clary had asked and staying where he was standing. Clary already knew that it was going to be Jace that he listened to. After Stephens passing, Jace was now the most powerful member of the Peaky Blinders, and Clary had heard that he hadn't taken long to settle back into the family business, and several bodies of people who had been trying to make trouble had already been found, littered around the city.

"Sounds like Jace is going to get that for you," Will said slowly, taking in a deep breath as he looked back over at the red head. Clary knew that Will didn't have a choice here, but she was really itching to punch him in the nose for being a coward and putting her in this position.

Everyone knew about the history between her and Jace.

And although everyone knew that _something_ had happened while he had been away at the war, that it had ended between them, no one really knew what it was.

And everyone had been waiting to find out what would happen when they were reunited.

"Care to join me?" Jace asked, his lips curling upward in a cheeky smirk.

"I'm fine just where I am," Clary snipped.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's protocol for whoever is picking up the money to watch it come out of the safe and be counted," Jace continued, and Clary's lips tightened. As if he was really going to steal from his own business. But he was right, it was protocol. Clary hoped that her annoyance wasn't too obvious on her face as she walked toward Jace. Instead of turning and walking toward the back of the pub and expecting Clary to follow, he was waiting until she had reached him, so that they could walk together. Clary clenched her teeth together, making sure to put some good space between them, so that their arms didn't bump as they walked together. When they reached the doorway, Clary purposefully stopped, so that they didn't go through together and Jace let out a short laugh under his breath.

They made it all the way down the hallway, past the bathrooms and the meeting room for the family, and to the back office without Jace saying anything. The tension was there, though. It was strong and sparking between them, and Clary felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. One hand was clenched into a fist, her nails biting into her palm as she tried to keep herself grounded, to keep herself breathing steadily. The other hand was tightly gripping her purse, fingers curling into the silk and lace material.

"Ladies first," Jace tilted his head to the side as he opened up the door to the office, waving his arm in front of her. Clary's jaw clenched, her teeth clicking together, and Jace's smirk was all knowing as she stalked past him. She moved to stand in front of the pine desk, feeling her heart beating fast as he closed the door firmly and looked at her. "You look beautiful," Jace stated in a low voice and her eyes narrowed.

"The _money_ , Jace," she snapped at him and his cocky smile grew.

"And just as full of sass as the day I left," he added and Clary's glare was heated.

"That's right," she snapped. "You left, and I waited, and then you decided one day that you were done. I loved you and you threw me aside, and now you're back, but don't think for one minute that you can just pick me up like those whores on the street that fall at your feet." The smile was gone from his mouth, and his eyes even looked a little guilty.

"Clary," he murmured, stepping closer to her, but Clary's head twitched from side to side in a shake, stepping back. "People were dying over there. _Everyday_. I didn't want you to be waiting for me to come back, I didn't want you giving up your life when there was a chance that I may never be with you again."

"Well, that wasn't your choice!" Clary spat at him. "That was _mine_. And you decided to just snatch that away from me without talking. We _knew_ the risks when you left, and we said we _loved_ each other. I was ready to wait as long as it took, Jace." She didn't realize it, but her body had started shaking. She wasn't sure if it was from pent up rage or the sadness that had followed her around since he had left, but she hated it.

She hated that Jace could bring all these emotions that she had been keeping suppressed right back up the surface.

Jace sighed and then stepped closer again, and Clary tried to step back again, but she was pressed up hard against the desk.

"I'm back now," he told her quietly. "I'm sorry for how things ended. I'm sorry I took away that choice. I thought I was doing what was best for you. But I'm back. And I love you. And I want you." Clary let out a disbelieving snort.

"How do you know I'm not with someone, Jace?! You say you didn't want me to wait around, but you're expecting that I'm just free for the taking now that you're back?!" She growled at him.

"I know you're not with anyone, because I've asked several people, including my mother," Jace replied, and he advanced again. With nowhere else to run, Clary did what she did whenever she was cornered. She pulled a revolver out of her purse and aimed it directly at his chest. Jace glanced at it, and then a smile spread across his face. "Looks like you've traded up since the one I got you."

"Yeah, this ones bigger," Clary replied, her upper lip curling in annoyance. "Less chance of missing." Jace wasn't at all deterred by the gun pointing directly at his chest. Even before he had gone off to the war, he was completely used to guns. He had been held at knife point when he was just six years old, by a business rival of his fathers, and he had carried one ever since. He stepped forward, so that the barrel of the gun was pressed right against his chest.

"You wouldn't have missed anyway," Jace said easily, as though there wasn't a gun pressed to his chest. "I taught you better than that." Clary swallowed hard at that and she jutted her chin out. "You haven't missed a target since you were fifteen years old." Clary chewed at the inside of her cheek and her thumb moved to click the safety off. Jace's smile was still there, and there was something deadly in the curve of his lips, something that had always been there, since they were kids, but that had just gotten scarier in the time that he had been away.

And unfortunately, so goddamn sexier.

It took Jace only three moves to disarm her, one step to the side with his head dropping forward as though he was moving past her, then a quick move of his left arm to smack her arms both to the side, and then his right arm came up and easily snapped the gun out of her hands, turning it easily around to be pointed right back at her. Clary's eyes went wide as his smile widened.

"Right," Jace tilted his head to the side, and he moved the gun, so that the barrel was against her arm. He rubbed it down the curve of her bicep, over her elbow, down to her wrist, and then back up again. "Now, let's not play around here, it's been far too long."

"Far too long since what?" Clary spat at him.

"Since I've had that," the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding the gun gestured between her legs and Clary let out a growl and it looked as though she wanted to jump at him and scratch his eyes out. But he could also see that there was something else in her eyes, something that she was never going to loose.

"Pretty sure you had plenty of cunt when you were overseas," Clary bit out.

"But not yours," Jace hummed out with a shrug. "Not the woman I love." Clary tried not to let it show on her face that those words affected her after all this time. "I'm back here, and I still love you, even more than the day I fucking left. The war is over, and I'm alive, and you're the only thing that got me through." The gun moved, he trailed it over her collarbone, the safety still off, and it tapped against where the skin was so thin, right against her bone. Clary hoped that her tremble wasn't obvious, but from the way Jace's eyes glowed, she guessed that he saw it.

"It's not that easy," Clary told him, gritting her teeth together, trying to ignore the way heat just pooled together at the pit of her stomach. " _I'm_ not that easy."

"You never were, darlin'," Jace said with a grin. "That's why I love you." Clary swallowed hard. Her mouth felt dry and even though her lips parted and she wanted to snap something back, she didn't have any words.

She knew what she had been signing up for when she had first fallen in love with Jace.

He was all hard edges. He was rough words and he was glaring eyes and he was stoic silences.

He had grown up in a world where he killed or he was killed.

But he loved her.

When they were in public, he had to show how strong he was. He had to protect her by _not_ showing how much she meant to him. Because if someone reached out and broke her, it would in turn break him in turn.

When they had been alone, he showed her how much he loved her. He showed her how much he needed her.

And even though she hated his reason for breaking things off between them while he was at the war, she could understand them.

The shift in her thinking must have shown on her face, because Jace took a step back, his expression loosening slightly. He still held the gun in his hand, but he let his arms fall to his sides, and his thumb pressed the safety back on. His gaze was heated as he glanced over her body, and Clary swallowed thickly as she clenched her thighs together.

"Undo your dress," Jace's words were soft, but they filled the room, and they echoed between her ears.

"Fuck you," was her instant response, and there was a flare in his eyes. The gun twitched in Jace's hand, and he rubbed his thumb up and down the metal, and Clary looked down at it in his hand. He began lifting it back up, and Clary wondered idly if he was going to point it at her again. That idea sent a whole other rush of damp heat into the lace underwear that she was wearing, and that was _not_ something that she wanted to think about. But then Jace put the gun on the desk that Clary was pressed up against, and he moved so he was standing only a few inches away from her. He reached up and gripped the purse that he was clutching in her hand. He tugged at it a few times and she stubbornly held on until Jace used a bit more strength and managed to snatch it away and he dropped it to the ground.

"Undo your dress," Jace repeated, so much closer to her now, and a shiver rolled through her whole body. Clary considered spitting in his face, but instead, her fingers moved up to shakily began to undo the ivory buttons of her bodice. They opened up, and it exposed the lace undergarments underneath, and Jace's lips parted as he glimpsed the soft skin that had been hidden just a moment before.

She let her dress fall to the ground. She was left in the pale yellow lace slip that she had underneath. It was sheer, except over her breasts, where the lace was thick, and along the hem, where the lace was also thick. She had lace underwear underneath the slip, and white stockings underneath, held up to her thighs with a white garter.

"You look even better than in my dreams," Jace breathed, and Clary opened her mouth, but then his lips were crushing down on hers. Clary's breath caught in her throat as his mouth molded with hers, after nearly four and a half years without his touch. There had been a few men, just like Clary guessed that there had been a few women for Jace, but it wasn't this. It didn't literally steal the breath out of her lungs.

Whenever they touched before, it felt as though there were sparks jumping off their skin.

Now, Clary thought a fire would actually burn her as Jace's hands gripped her upper arms, his mouth moving against hers.

She could swallow back her whimpers and moans, even though she desperately didn't want to give Jace that satisfaction, but his groans were nearly as loud as hers, and coming from a man that controlled _everything_ that he did, that told her how much he was feeling.

Jace kissed her until they were both out of breath, and then he moved to kiss her cheeks and her nose and her eyelids and her jaw. The kisses fluttered over her skin, and the grip that Jace had on her arms was loose, as though he was just holding her to know that she was _actually_ there. Jace moved back to her lips, giving her another firm kiss before pulling back and she was surprised by the look on his face. His pupils were blown and his eyes were glazed—and it wasn't just from arousal. They were watery, as though there were tears that he was holding back.

"You have no idea how much I fucking missed you, Clarissa," Jace told her, a hand coming up to cup her face, a thumb resting against her cheek bone. "You were the only one who ever held my heart." Clary swallowed again, and tears sprung to her eyes as well. "And I'm never leaving you again, you hear me?" Clary jerked her head in a nod. " _Never_."

"You fucking better not," she managed to say, and Jace's lips quirked upward, before things were pushed into fast forward again. He was undoing his belt and pulling up her slip and Clary was shifting herself backwards so that she was on the desk, pushing away some of the things that were there. They fell to the ground and made a loud noise, and Will undoubtedly heard it, but Clary didn't doubt that Will would already know what was going on in the back office.

Just because the public wasn't aware of how much Jace had adored Clary, but his close always had been.

Jace pushed Clary's dress up, over her knees, up to her waist, and he took another moment to run his hands over her creamy thighs, over the skin that was bare above the stockings. His fingers flexed and then he lifted his hand further, to her underwear, and he tore at them.

" _Jace_!" Clary hissed at him, although it was more annoyance than anger in her voice, and that was quickly gone when two fingers slid into her. The feeling of Jace inside her again felt fucking _biblical_. Those other men that she had fooled around with had nothing on what Jace did to her. He was the first man to ever touch her and now that he was back in her life, he was going to be the last man to touch her.

Jace only had to pump his fingers a couple of times before she was coming, soaking through her slip which was still tucked under her ass and undoubtedly wetting the desk beneath her. One of Clary's hands curled into a fist, clenching some pieces of paper that she hoped weren't important, and the other hand gripped Jace's jacket, pulling him in for another kiss. When he leaned, and their lips and tongues came together, she put her hands around his neck. One hand pulled at his hair while the other grabbed the back of the flat cap that he was wearing. She had purposefully grabbed it from the back, given the boys had always sewn razor blades into the front of the cap, giving them an edge when they got involved in street fights. She threw it to the ground and then set to work at undoing his belt.

Jace gave her an amused look when he pulled back as she managed to undo his belt and then pulled at his pants. Clary gave him a frustrated look which melted away when he lifted the hand that had been in her to his lips, sucking on the two fingers. Her lips parted and her eyes widened and Jace smirked before pushing down his pants and underwear enough so that he could pull out his cock.

"Just as sweet as I remember," Jace whispered in her ear before he roughly pulled her right to the edge of the desk and pushed inside her. Clary bit down hard on his grey tweed jacket to stop her scream from filling the entire pub. Jace let out a chuckle and didn't give her time to adjust as he began to thrust into her over and over again. One hand helped him keep his balance, on the edge of the desk, while the other one came up to her throat, fingers stretched around to the nape of her neck.

It was something he used to do.

It didn't scare Clary, even though his hand was large enough to almost wrap around her whole throat.

Maybe it wasn't healthy that it didn't scare her, but given everything she had seen, growing up in the large crime family, it just peaked her arousal.

Jace could hurt her if he wanted, but that wasn't what it was about.

It was as though he was touching her in her most vulnerable place—fingers at her neck while his thumb was lightly resting against her trachea—as proof that although he could hurt her easily, he never would.

"Clary...Clary..." Jace leaned forward, his fingers tightening around her neck just a little, his forehead resting against her bare shoulder, chanting her name softly under his breath. Clary clenched her pussy tightly, and Jace's body jerked, quickening his thrusts before he was spilling inside her. He grunted, his hand dropping from her neck and to her hip as his body slumped against hers. Clary waited patiently as his breathing began to even out again, and when he pulled back, she narrowed her eyes.

"This doesn't mean you're forgiven, Jace Herondale," she said sternly.

"Would expect nothing less, darlin'," Jace replied with a smirk and a tilt of her head.

Clary tried, but she couldn't stop her smile.

 _Let me know what you think x_


End file.
